


we will never be anything.

by shyksarry



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 13:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyksarry/pseuds/shyksarry
Summary: “They were pressing faces?”Adora nods. She’s twelve now and gappy in the mouth, so words are a tongue-tying thing but she manages to spew it all out okay, “Yes. I recorded three separate instances of cadets pressing their faces together,” pause, “well, actually, their mouths, and-“*Even after all this time, Adora still can't let go.





	we will never be anything.

**Author's Note:**

> this was requested under the word prompt 'freckles' on tumblr. i hope you enjoy!

The day is a warm one and Adora is coiled up like a snake beneath a shuddering sycamore tree, listening to it whine and whistle with the wind. Her friends are nearby, taking a dip in the creek. They slosh around and yell and beckon her over but Adora stays. Doesn’t move, not even when Mermista shoots a jet of water out from her palm and right into her face.

“Hey!”

The others laugh. Gaggling geese, she thinks. And then tells them so.

“Better that than being boooring,” Mermista drawls, cupping her hands together tightly and then flicking her wrist until a long stream of water is hovering above Glimmer’s sleeping form.

They all watch with bated breath. Perfuma looks worried, Bow conflicted, Frosta afraid and Seahawk amused, and then -

Splash!

Glimmer shrieks. Mermista laughs. They teleport away, don’t come back for another five minutes and when they do Mermista’s got swollen lips and a blush playing high on her cheeks.

Adora knows that look.

Things play out a little normally after that. Turns out, Perfuma brought some snacks along, they’re pretty simple - little wrapped sandwiches - but Adora enjoys them nonetheless. Mermista refuses to leave the water, even for lunch and Glimmer fawns over Adora and how unfamiliar she is with fizzing and colourful drinks.

_“You’re like, a baby,” she teases, “A child, that’s what you are. I can’t believe you’ve never had fizzy drinks before!”_

_“The fright zone only provides food and drink with the highest nutritional value,” she parrots, “To do otherwise would be stupid.”_

The others look at her a bit dumbly after that, so Adora vows not to talk about The Fright Zone and especially not The Horde for a while. But then the others retreat back to the water and it’s just her and Bow. So of course, _of course_ she has to ask.

“Are Mermista and Glimmer, like, pressing faces or something?”

There’s silence and then wheezing, choking, the spluttering of a boy who just swallowed water up his nose and down his throat. Adora shrieks and slams his back until it comes out again, mucus and all. It’s gross. Like, really, _really_ gross.

“Are you okay?” She asks, but then she notices the incredulous look on his face.

“ _Pressing-”_

* * *

 " _-_ Faces _?” Shadow Weaver finishes. “They were pressing faces?”_

_Adora nods. She’s twelve now and gappy in the mouth, so words are a tongue-tying thing but she manages to spew it all out okay, “Yes. I recorded three separate instances of cadets pressing their faces together,” pause, “Well, actually, their mouths, and-“_

-And I made a chart, she goes to say. Look, with colour and everything!

_But Shadow Weaver sighs and presses her hand against the plush of Adora’s cheek. “Dear Adora,” she says, “Return to your quarters and do not speak of this again. Do you hear me?”_

_Adora swallows and scrunches her face up, mulls it over in her mouth like sour milk, then parrots back with a, “Yes Ma’am. I hear you loud and clear.”_

* * *

“Glimmer!” Bow calls, shrill and harpy-like. “Glimmer come here _right now_!”

Glimmer, who had previously been attempting to remove some mucus green and squishy plants from her hair (courtesy of the murky creek), teleports over to them in a poof of sparkles. “What?” She says blankly, already back to pulling long drooling strings of the plant out.

“Adora doesn’t know what kissing is!”

Glimmer frowns, “Huh? Come again?”

Bow shoots up from his spot on the pillowy grass. He sways and Glimmer steadies him with her palms. “She!” He yells, pointing at Adora, who, _okay_ , is now _considerably_ worried, “Doesn’t know what kissing is!”

There’s a brief beat of silence and then everyone else is clambering over to them, limbs spidery and long, all tangled together like morning hair and she’s being attacked with a thousand questions. It’s kind of overwhelming, actually.

Glimmer, always the hero, quiet's them with a single, “Shut up!” and then turns to Adora with pursed lips. “Adora,” she says, “Have you never kissed anyone before?”

Adora wilts. “Well, I don’t-“

* * *

_“-Get it,” Catra says, “It sounds dumb.”_

_Adora huffs, bites the pad of her thumb and mumbles around it, “Of course you wouldn’t get it, you’re too little.”_

_This earns her a squawk of indignation. Catra shimmies off the edge of their bed and makes her way over with her arms star-fished out. “I’m bigger than you!”_

_Luckily, The Barracks are empty at this hour, and Adora knows from experience that only a sliver of sound will reach beyond the metallic walls, so their angry yelling won’t alert any of the higher-ups. Hopefully._

_“No you’re not!” She replies, standing up stick straight and jutting her chin out the way she’s seen Shadow Weaver do. Catra gives her an angry hiss upon realizing that Adora is in fact, correct. They’re about an inch or two off from being identical in height._

_Catra, still hissing, slumps down onto the floor like the sloppy mop of wheat and milk they get for breakfast. Her limbs deflate and she lies in a pile of misery, blubbering like a child._

_Adora worries her lip. “It’s okay,” she says, “You’re still growing.”_

_Catra grumbles in response and then Adora’s struck with a thought. One that sends a flush, all raspberry-red, onto her neck and cheeks. It’s not a good thought, she knows. Shadow Weaver told her not to talk about it. She told her to forget it. But she hadn’t and then she’d gone and told Catra and, well, if she’s already gone that far, then where’s the harm in trying it?_

_Adora kneels, knees rubbing rough against gravelly floor. Her hands hover, hesitant and shakey like the first breath of morning, before settling on Catra’s thighs, who looks up in surprise. Adora swallows._

_“Do you...want to try it out?” She says, stomach balled up tight like a fist clenching, unclenching, clenching..._

_Catra’s tongue darts out, she licks her lips and blinks owlishly. Her tail swishes this way and that. “Okay,” she says, “Let’s try it out. Just to see if it really is dumb.”_

* * *

 

_And they do. And it is, (In the way that children think, the way they lie. Catra’s mouth presses and they push and pull and it’s sticky and wet and they’re laughing, cacophonous into each other's mouths but Adora loves it. Loves it so much it leaves a knee deep ache in her chest that she fears she won’t ever shake herself free from.)_

_And Adora doesn’t forget it, not for years, not even when everything changes._

* * *

_“What’re you doin?”_

_Adora breathes and squishes her feelings down, even if her skin is kettle hot and brimming over with boils and bubbling water. “Nothing,” she says and her throat squeaks, “Just. Waiting.”_

_Which is a lie._

_Because she’s staring at something she’s seen a thousand times before but somehow, this time, it’s different. Catra’s skin flashes bronze, speckled and dusty under limp lamp light. Her fangs glint and the peach fuzz on her arms bristle and flow with the hiss of steam that rushes by. Adora’s hair sticks to her forehead like drool, held there by the wet of a long-forgotten shower alone._

_“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Catra continues, “Is there something on my face?”_

_Adora shakes her head, “No,” she stammers, “You’re-it’s fine.”_

_Catra nods and then waddles off, headed straight for the showers and Adora exhales and blinks several times. It’s still burned into her retina; right there, a thousand dots she could connect and remember, if she wanted to. The way Catra’s hair became damp beneath the sloppy kiss of wet air and how she spoke, voice low and teasing._

_She tell’s herself it’s jealousy. That it’s Catra’s...prettiness that makes her so nervous, so hesitant to huddle next to her at night when the sky drips slushy green liquid and bellows out a sirens song._

_On those nights Catra’s nails dig incisor sharp into her skin. Their legs pretzel together and ruffle shuffle under the covers. Catra hisses into her neck and her fangs brush and beg to press in and Adora holds her. They wait it out. And then they pull away and Adora tries to act normal, as though unscathed by the whole thing even though she’s flushed down to the bone and aching to touch._

_Tonight is almost one of those nights._

_“You taste nice,” Catra says from where she’s tucked into the column of Adora’s neck. From here Adora can feel the bumps of moles and freckles along the line of Catra’s spine, where she runs her hands up and down up and down. It’s supposed to be soothing._

_The comment startles her._

_“Do I?” She croaks._

_“Yeah,” Catra continues, “Like salt and...mmm, chicken.”_

_Adora snickers, and blows out a raspberry into Catra’s cheek, “Mm, n’ you taste like wet cat.”_

_That earns her a scoff, “I do not!”_

_“You do. The wettest cat. That’s what you taste like.”_

_Catra shoves, “Shut up Adora.” And then she turns and Adora grimaces. A long strand of wiry dark hair is glued to Catra’s cheek by a splotch of white drool, much like her hair had been only hours earlier. Held in place by water not yet evaporated._

_Catra notices her grimace and then spots the hair. Quick as a flash, she darts her tongue out and swipes at the line of it caught on her cheek. And before Adora can protest or stop her, she’s surging forward and taking a looong lick up Adora’s own cheek, ending it with a bite and another hum of, “You taste reaaally nice.”_

_Adora sighs, “You already said that.” And Catra looks up at her again and the look she gives her is different to any look Adora has ever received. It brings to mind the cadets she saw and their pressing mouths. The memory of two girls, sitting so close and holding so tight as if letting go means shattering or something worse._

_She thinks of pressing her lips against Catra’s again, and this time not letting go._

_But Catra pulls away and the hail outside chitters and chatters on, much like the walls clatter and clang and Catra whines and Adora misses her chance. There’s not even a sliver of space between them left and she could, she knows she could – but she won’t. She knows she won’t._

_She wishes she would._

* * *

  _Tomorrow, Adora finds a humming sword and a tiara freckled with gold._

_Tomorrow, Adora doesn't return home._

_Tomorrow, Adora begs to forget._

* * *

The silence drones on and they’re all looking at her.

Adora swallows and says, “No, I haven’t...kissed anyone before.”

_“Move your head down, dummy, I can’t reach it.”_

_“It’s not my fault you’re so short.”_

“No.”

_(But I wish I had.)_

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments feed me and my cats!!!
> 
> if you'd like to request a word prompt on tumblr:  
> [click here](https://scorpiocatra.tumblr.com/post/183850160645/hello-i-recently-reached-100-followers-on-this#_=_)
> 
> i feel like catra and adora would have one of those kinda way-too-close-and-gross relationships. like theyre way too comfortable around eachother. hence, adora not really being phased by catra licking her and telling her she tastes like chicken. just a thought.


End file.
